Freyja's Fancies
by sabbync
Summary: Freyja comes to Chicago for a new job with Lara Raith. What antics will the blonde goddess get up to? Minor canon noncompliance, ignore the 17 words that have been written about Freyja and all is well. Most chapters are short, but I will be uploading them at a steady pace.
1. Chapter 1

Freyja arrived in Chicago on a Saturday. The howling wind and sheets of rain reminded her of home, though it had made her flight rather uncomfortable. That was another advantage of being a deity: your magic didn't destroy technology.

Freyja grabbed her backpack from the overhead luggage and shuffled along the isle. Behind her in the slow-moving line was a balding middle-aged white man. A few feet further down, she felt a bump. She turned around and the man was smiling. She glared, but dared the man in her mind. _Come on_ , she thought. _Test me_. Unsurprisingly, he did. Only a few seconds later, she felt a hand on her well-rounded ass. Freyja grabbed his hand and turned around quickly, twisting the hand 360 degrees and towards the ground.

"AAAGHGH!" the man said. "Don't. Touch. Me." Freyja said before flinging him into an empty row of seats. She may be the goddess of sex, but she hated creeps as much as any woman. The only difference was she could fling them into a wall with the strength of three Ronda Rouseys.

"McAnally's pub," she said, climbing into the cab. She needed a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

The blonde walked into McAnally's to a couple stares. It was relatively busy, but still plenty of free seats at the bar. Freyja took a seat and began reading the menu when a drunken voice behind her said, "Hey gorgeous."

Freyja turned around to see a heavyset boy in his 20s with a neck beard. "You've got some *hic* great cuuuurves," he said. Freyja rolled her eyes and was contemplating what to do. She decided to throw the asshole out of the bar. Literally.

She never got the chance. A long, muscular arm reached out from behind the bar and grabbed the boy by his t-shirt, yanking him forward. "You," the bartender said. "Out." The boy hesitated. "Now." There was something in the man's voice and eyes that conveyed an aura of 'don't-fuck-with-me.' The boy skedaddled.

"Sorry," the man said, turning towards Freyja. "What's your order?"

"I'll have a glass of Purity vodka, neat, on ice. And your lamb sandwich." The man responded with a nod and a grunt. A few seconds later, Freyja was sipping vodka and looking out at the bar. She had definitely come to the right place. Thirteen pillars were arranged at odd angles and symbols decorated the walls and floor. The bar had been fixed up nicely, but there were still scrapes and scorch marks from previous fights. She smiled, looking forward to what awaited her.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day Freyja rented a car. Although she generally prefered stick, it is a lot easier to cast spells while driving in an automatic car. So she got a Mercedes-Benz GLE450. One of the nice things about having lived for millennia is how much wealth you build up. Freyja was far from the wealthiest surviving god, but she had managed her finances well, apart from the olive oil scandal in the 16th century. The $600 per day her car cost was nothing to her.

The GLE was a smooth ride. And a fast one. Freyja liked driving fast. It wasn't long until the black car was stopping outside the cast iron gates that stood just before the driveway loop.

" _Who are you?_ " The voice came, mechanically garbled, out of the speakers just above the gate. Freyja cleared her throat and rolled down the window.

"Freyja, here to see Lara Raith." There was a pause before the voice responded.

" _Very well, come in_." The gates swung open and Freyja drove on, pulling up just outside of the front door. The mansion looked different from the last one Freyja had seen. That mansion had been outside of Syracuse, on Sicily. It was much more old-school than the machine-gun turrets and razor-sharp barbed wire that lined the reinforced concrete roof of this one.

A mortal in a black suit opened the door for Freyja. Walking out, she tossed her keys at him. "Have it ready when I leave," she ordered. The mortal nodded, and quickly got in her car and drove it to some parking lot.

Upon entering the Raith Estate, Freyja was asked to wait in the foyer. A few minutes later Lara descended from the stairs and Freyja immediately felt underdressed. She had elected to wear something practical but still sexy: a low-cut blue and white patterned sleeveless top with jeans that hugged her tight ass. Lara ignored practicality, wearing a tight red dress with a neckline that showed enough cleavage to let the mind fixate on her without being illegal when worn in public. In her presence Freyja felt less like the goddess of sex and more like an apprentice, at best.

"Hello darling," Lara said, sliding her hand down Freyja's arm. "How have you been," she asked, smiling slightly at the blonde goddess.

"Better now," Freyja replied, wrapping her arm around Lara's waist and kissing her lightly on the lips. "Now come on," she said, walking down the hallway and leading Lara by the hand. "We have some business to discuss." She smirked to herself as Lara almost tripped trying to catch up to her. Two could play at this game.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wait," Lara said once she'd caught up to Freyja. "You're going the wrong way. Lord Raith's room is that way," she said, pointing to the right. Freyja laughed a little.

"Oh, come on Lara," she said. "Don't bullshit me. Pretend he's in charge all you want to the world, but don't make me talk to him."

"He _is_ in charge," Lara said.

"Lara." Freyja said. " _You_ want my help. _You_ want to take over the abandoned Red Court territory. _He_ wants to feed through a straw." Lara laughed. It was sounded somewhere between a hearty laugh and a schoolgirl's giggle. It tugged at Freyja's heart, forcing her to smile at the white vampire.

"Alright," Lara said, brushing against Freyja's chest and whispering the rest of her sentence into Freyja's ear. "We can do this one-on-one." Lara brushed against Freyja's chest as she headed down the hall to the left. Freyja stood there for a second before shaking her head and following the vampire.

Freyja followed Lara into what looked like an old-timey living room. Two comfy lounge chairs were gathered around a coffee table and a fireplace. Lara signalled for Freyja to sit down in one of the chairs while she unfurled a map of the southern border of the United States. After Freyja sat down, Lara began talking.

"As you were of course aware, Dresden's. . . ill-managed wholesale destruction of the Red Court has left a power vacuum in South and Central America. There are several groups that have been taking over this territory. You," she said, pausing to look up at Freyja, "will help me gain an advantage by. . . distracting these other organizations." Lara smirked as she looked at Freyja. The blonde goddess' frustration over Lara's vagueness was apparent.

"And what organizations might those be?" Freyja asked, her voice full of false sweetness.

"Various ones," Lara responded with a deepening smirk.

"Lara!" Freyja exclaimed, rising out of her chair, "I need to know who I'm going to be fighting!" Freyja was inches away from the vampire's face, and instantly regretted her actions. Lara now had the upper hand as she giggled at the goddess' frustration. Freyja knew she needed to switch things up if she was to have any sway in this relationship. So the goddess of love and sex leaned in and kissed the white court vampire. Lara pulled back, her mouth open in shock. Freyja moved her hand down Lara's back, tracing patterns along the red dress.

"Now then," Freyja said, softly with a smile. "Who do you want me to distract?"


	5. Chapter 5

Freyja picked up her keys from the mortal valet with the same lack of care and empathy as when she had handed them to him. She drove off, quickly leaving the verdant mansion grounds behind. She quickly took the entrance ramp onto I-90 and made it into the far left lane, hitting 85 almost immediately. She needed to think, and this is where she did that best.

Lara wanted to take the old Red Court territory, that much Freyja had known. What Freyja hadn't known was just how far she was willing to go to get what she wanted. _Fucking hell_ , Freyja thought as she hit 90. _Why am I even helping her?_ It was a rhetorical question, of course. She liked Lara, always had. When Lara had been a teenager, Freyja had taught her how to read her father. When to avoid him. Freyja had never liked Lord Raith and had been glad to hear that Lara had overthrown him. Plus, Lara had agreed to help Freyja on some of her own. . . projects.

Freyja sighed. She needed the White Court's help. And the way to get that help was to help Lara with what she wanted. Freyja sighed again. She hated dealing with the Black Court. Killing them was fun, but they always left behind a mess. Besides, they were quite powerful, especially if what Lara had said was true.

According to Lara's informants, the Black Court had been moving in on old Red Court territory in Brazil and Argentina, and rather successfully. Rather than killing the old servants of the Red Court, they had been turned into thralls. Those who had pledged their loyalty to the Black Court had become vampires.

Freyja wasn't sure how much of this she could trust, however. The Black Court had been weak for centuries. While they would undoubtedly use the Red Court's fall as an opportunity to expand, Freyja knew to take what the White Court said with a grain of salt. The White and Black Courts hated each other, rarely allying and never for long.

Freyja sighed for a third time. She was going to need some allies or some followers. She rolled her eyes. Definitely followers, allies were so much more boring.


	6. Chapter 6

Later that night Freyja was walking back from dinner at Girl & The Goat, where she'd had the best duck tongues in the world when she passed a teenage boy with a scruff beard sleeping on the street. Freyja thought nothing of it, that was Chicago. Then she paused, looking back, this time with her Sight. This time she saw something different. She saw a woman, crying, with magic flickering between her fingers.

"Hey," Freyja said, shaking the girl awake.

"Hmm?"

"What's your name?"

"Uh…" the girl froze. She wasn't used to this kind of questions, let alone from a woman with expensive jewelry. Freyja smiled kindly at her.

"It's okay, take your time. I'm Freyja," she said, extending her hand. The girl paused for a bit before shaking it. "I'm a witch, just like you," she said. The girl sat up against the wall, hard.

"What. . .what do you… I'm not"

"It's okay," said Freyja, in a calming tone. She extended her hand, this time palm up. "Hiti," she whispered. A blue flame tickled her hand, dancing as the girl watched in awe. Freyja then closed her hand and the flame went away.

"I can teach you how to do that," Freyja said. "I can help you find who you are. I can give you a place to live. Just tell me your name."

"Ca-can you help my friends too?" the girl asked.

"Are they like you?"

"Yes." The girl had no idea what Freyja meant by the question. But they were queer, homeless, and young. So to Samantha, they were just like her.

"Of course they can," said Freyja. "Now then, what's your name?"

"Samantha."


	7. Chapter 7

Freyja took Samantha back up to her room. There was something about the blonde goddess that made Samantha trust her instantly, even though she had learned not to trust anyone this past year. The pair got quite a few stares as they entered the elevator towards Freyja's room. By the time they had actually entered the room, Samantha was shaking.

"Hey," Freyja said, putting a hand on Samantha's forearm. "You've got nothing to worry about. The room has two beds, and tomorrow we'll get a proper house we can all stay in." Samantha seemed to relax a little at that. "That's it," Freyja continued, smiling. "Just breathe. The shower's all yours if you want it, and feel free to shave with the razor there as well. I'll put some clean clothes for out for you while you're in there." Samantha could cry at that.

While Samantha was showering, Freyja scrounged through her backpack, finally finding a silver necklace with a small black door as a pendent. "Kista hniga," she whispered. The door elongated until it reached the floor and the ceiling. Freyja grabbed the metal doorknob and pulled open the door. Inside she found everything exactly as she'd left them. The first couple shelves were full of clothes. Freyja picked out a cute top and a skirt for Samantha before wandering further into the room. There, among the rows of books, was an old drinking horn. It was made from a dragon's horn and decorated with gold. It had been a gift from her father, Njorth, on her wedding day. Freyja laughed. Njorth had been so proud on that day. The marriage had not lasted long. Not only was Ord boring, he had been more intent on killing and "drinking from the skulls of my enemies" than anything interesting. Their marriage had practically been over after a mere decade, but was technically in place until Ord died in 1340. Freyja took the horn.

"Kyother?" A loud sigh emanated from the horn.

"What is it this time?" the rather grumpy spirit of intellect asked.

"I have someone for you to meet."

"Oh god." Freyja could hear the spirit's nonexistent eyes rolling. "Not another vampire or wizard you want to _collaborate_ with is it?" Freyja had to stifle a laugh. Kyother had hated the last wizard Freyja had allowed to access his knowledge, Bianca St. Claire, a vampire of the Red Court. She had not been gentle in her pursuit of knowledge.

"No, nothing like that. I'm taking someone on as an apprentice."

"OOOOOO!" Kyother squealed. They could really be a fangirl sometime, albeit a cruel one. "Can I lie to them?"

"No."

"Mislead them?"

"No."

"Prank them?"

"No."

"Lead them into-"  
"No! You remember what happened the last time you did that!" Kyother sighed.

"Fine. A plain vanilla teaching. You're no fun."

"Tell you what," Freyja said. "Do a good job with her and her friends and I'll bring you along when I meet Mavra."

"Deal."


	8. Chapter 8

Of Samantha's four friends, three showed magical aptitude. But Samantha said she'd leave if Henry, the queer black kid, wasn't allowed to stay, so Freyja relented. According to Kyother, the three apprentices were coming along nicely. Ash had managed to create a rudimentary shield after only a week, and Red was able to set a stack of wood ablaze, though they couldn't control their power particularly well. Samantha was possibly the most able, creating a veil good enough to temporarily fool even Kyother.

The one who impressed her the most, however, was Henry. Though a mortal, he had been quick to take to this new magical world. He had apparently taken kendo martial arts lessons before his parents had kicked him out. Freyja was so impressed with his skill that she gave him a sword forged by the legendary Japanese blacksmith Amakuni. Though far from Amakuni's most powerful sword, Sika-Maru was a powerful weapon. The sword moved with uncanny speed and could cut through layers of powerful magical protection.

While her little squad of queer kids were training, Freyja had business to attend to. Before she met with Mavra she needed information, and either an enticing proposal or some sort of leverage over the powerful Black Court vampire. Fortunately, one of her informants in the Black Court's German bureaucracy had come through.


	9. Chapter 9

Mavra's new Chicago lair was far from what her old one had been, although it blended in better. Rather than an enormous nest hidden underneath a building, she now resided in a large warehouse-type building that was being "renovated." While most mortals would assume it was being renovated to create condos that would be sold to gentrifying whites at exorbitant rates, it was actually being reconstructed to provide security and room for the few Black Court vampires who still obeyed Mavra and their horde of Renfields. Freyja had to laugh at the building when she pulled up and parked nearby. It was far from the gothic style that the Black Court preferred and placed value on. This building was a confirmation of what Freyja's informant had told her: that Mavra had fallen far in the Black Court hierarchy.

Freyja knocked at the door and then waited. Mavra took thresholds very seriously. Even though she could not have an innate threshold, she made up for it with heavy wards. As the door remained unanswered, Freyja grew bored and opened her Sight. She could see runes swirling around the door, much as she had expected. The wards seemed to be intricately done, although Freyja thought she could disable them if need be. As she looked closer at the primary ward, which wound its way around the door frame and through the walls, she heard footsteps and closed her Sight. She had no desire to see the true nature of a Renfield.

Freyja heard seven bolts pulled back before the door swung open, revealing a skinny man in a well-tailored suit.

"Ah, Miss Freyja," he said with a faint slavic accent. "My mistress has been expecting you. Please, follow me." As he walked away, Freyja grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards, stepping into the house in the same motion.

"We," she said as the man grimaced, "are not on first name basis." He pulled back as soon as she released him, grabbing his forearm and rubbing it for a second.

"Very well, madam," he said. "Now please, follow me. My mistress is not in a patient mood." Freyja chuckled at that. The last time Mavra had been in a patient mood was in the womb.

Following the well-dressed man, Freyja opened her Sight again, scoping out the new Black Court headquarters. In addition to the relatively young vampire in front of her, there were around forty Renfields, which she avoided looking at, and several darkhounds. She could sense two more vampires elsewhere in the building, not counting Mavra. As her guide stopped, Freyja closed her Sight once again.

"She is inside," he said. "Please wait-" Freyja opened the door and walked in, ignoring the young vampire.

"Ah, Mavra!" she said, walking over to where the withered woman sat. She was on the phone. Freyja buried her grimace. The rumors about Mavra's injuries had been vastly understated.

"Freyja," the vampire said, clearly irritated. "Did Gregor not tell you to wait outside?"

"So that's his name," the blonde goddess said, sinking into the office couch, her head on one end and feet on the other. "He never really got to introducing himself." Mavra hissed, but hung up.

"What do you want?" she said, a growl in her voice.

"You look like you could use a loofah," Freyja said, standing up at looking at one of the bookshelves. Mavra desperately tried to bury her anger at that comment.

"Get. To. The. Point." Freyja let out a dramatic sigh, but turned to face Mavra.

"Fine, if you insist." She walked back over and sat down in the chair across from Mavra. "I'm here with an offer and a warning."

"And what are they?"

"I'm here to warn you that your uncle's moves in Latin America have not gone unnoticed."

"Of course they've been noticed, he's far too clumsy."

"And I'm offering you a chance to lead the Black Court." Mavra nearly choked.

"I don't need your help," she said coldly, after having regained her composure. Freyja laughed. Loudly. In Mavra's face.

"Oh for Fenir's sake Mavra! The whole world knows your position in the court has collapsed. And even if we didn't, this collection of concrete you call a base would tell me everything I need to know." Mavra growled. She hated being shown up. "Now, I've been hired to help Lord Raith take your uncle's mind off of expansions. All-"

"You're doing what?!" Mavra screamed. Freyja's hatred of Lord Raith was legendary. It had destroyed the long alliance between House Raith and the various deities of love and sex.

"Fine!" Freyja was irritated that her infamous feud was going to destroy Lara's cover. "I'm working for Lara Raith."

"Ahhh," Mavra said, leaning back into her chair with a smile playing across her dried out lips. "So, the rumors are true. Tell me, how tempted were you to just kill the old bastard?"

"Very," Freyja responded. "But that's not the point."

"Indeed," Mavra said, sitting back up. "But why would you warn me, let alone help me claim the throne?"

"Because your uncle's a dick." Mavra raised an eyebrow. "And I'm tired of the courts being run by men." The eyebrow went higher. After a pause, Freyja continued in a rushed tone. "And I need help getting something."

"Honesty at last. Tell me, what is this something?"

"Brísingamen," Freyja muttered. Mavra's eyes opened wide in shock.

"You lost it?"

"No, I didn't." Freyja was adamant about that. A kind of wild fire burned in her eyes. "He stole it."

"Who?"

"Him." Mavra's eyes were even wider. Her mouth was hanging open.

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure I can help you get that."

"You can and you will," Freyja said, standing up from the chair. "When you become queen you will assist me however I demand or I will come back and burn Kemmler's book in front of your eyes." Mavra stood as well, trying to hide her fear. Mavra was powerful. Too powerful in the eyes of the White Council and her Black Court rivals. But Freyja's intensity, the way magical energy was coursing through the air around her at this moment, it scared Mavra.

"You have a deal," the vampire said.

"Excellent. And when your uncle calls complaining in a few days, don't help him."

"I would never help him. Now, I trust you can find your way out?" Freyja nodded and shook Mavra's hand. Turning around, she quickly left the building. When she got into her car, Freyja opened up her bag and pulled out the drinking horn. A grey spirit flew into it.

"Alright Kyother, what did you think?" she asked as she started up the car.

"That was one of your best performances, I have to say. How did you project the energy in the air?"

"Ah, it was nothing," she said. "Just a well-timed illusion."

"Well, I think it was brilliant."

"Keep up the compliments and I'll be dragging you along for a lot more of these." Freyja could practically hear the spirit bouncing in its horn.

"Oh! Oh, can I? Oh please, I would love to!"

"Calm down Kyother," she said with a chuckle. "Now, tell me what you saw." Kyother's voice suddenly grew far more serious.

"It's well-stocked. Not the stronghold she once had, but there's four fully-fledged vampires, ten thralls, seven darkhounds, and thirty-four Renfields. The thralls and Renfields are armed with automatic assault rifles and practice martial arts while the vampires appear to have some training in magic and hand-to-hand combat."

"So, we probably shouldn't just blow her up."

"I would advise against that. The walls are imbued with shielding, so plastic explosives wouldn't do much good without disabling the wards first, and you saw how intricate those are." Freyja sighed as she pulled up to the house she had bought. It was in a good location and more than large enough for her small crew. Hell, they could fit another four or five in without being crammed. The house had cost a lot, but that's what money's for. Buying a $50 million house for your small private magical army. Freyja loved being rich, and loved how she'd gotten there. It was all based off of blackmailing Charles V of Spain and then making some sound investments. Thankfully for her, Charles had _really_ wanted to keep his affair with a witch away from his excessively religious son. She had been paid off with 10% of Charles' take from the recent ransoming of Atahualpa, which was 260 pounds of gold and 520 pounds of silver. Most of which she invested in Potosí, which produced around 46,000 metric tons of silver and the worst working conditions in history. Freyja got around 2500 metric tons by the time she called it quits, leaving the horrendous deaths of forced indigenous labor for other ventures, including the unfortunate Olive Scandal.

Freyja shook her head. It was no use thinking about that damn crisis, not when she was about to go to war with the Black Court.

Hey y'all, that wealth is worth about $1.2 billion today. Sorry for the nerding out there.


	10. Chapter 10

Freyja woke up early the next morning. She had gone to bed around 9:00, realizing she needed a good night's sleep before embarking on her quest. But by the time she woke up, at 5:30, Henry and Red were already up. Freyja heard the two sparing when she came down the stairs to find breakfast.

"No," she could hear Henry saying. "You need to grip the staff like this," he said, moving Red's hand. "Otherwise you can hurt your wrist when you block." Freyja moved silently through the adjoining hallway as the sound of wooden staves hitting filled the air. Freyja quietly opened the fridge and took out the mug of coffee she had left there the night before. "Varmr," she whispered, and the coffee quickly heated up. Sipping at the coffee, she smiled. Just how she liked it: plain, Puerto Rican, and black.

Freyja, dressed in her jeans and a plain sleeveless blouse, moved towards the sparring kids. She knew they would resent being called that, but she couldn't think of them any other way. Samantha, Henry, and Red were all in their early twenties, and Ash was just nineteen. She was over two millennia old.

Walking into the training room, Freyja leaned against the wall and sipped her coffee. Red swung her staff towards Henry, who sidestepped easily. They followed up with a strike to the head, which Henry blocked. He then swung the lower half of the stave up, forcing Red to jump back. They stumbled, allowing Henry to press the advantage. He swung towards their left flank, but they blocked. He then feinted towards their head and swung towards their right. Red barely managed to parry in time and stumbled back again. They pushed a desperate counter-attack, a wide swing to the head. Henry crouched and used his right leg to sweep Red's out from under them.

"Well done," Freyja said, startling the two sweating kids. "Although I have to say, your technique could be better Henry." Henry looked surprised. Freyja smiled at him, then continued. "You may be used to being stronger than your opponents," she said, gesturing towards his powerful biceps and cut abs. "But in this world, that will rarely be the case. You need to rely more on quickness and timing than strength." Henry nodded, still breathing heavily. Freyja looked at her watch, then back up.

"Tell you what," she said. "I think we have time for a short lesson."

"You're going to fight him?" Red asked incredulously.

"If he can't fight twice in a row, he needs vastly more endurance to survive in this world," Freyja shot back. Henry nodded, having fully recovered his breath. He picked up the stave while Freyja took Red's.

"Um, shouldn't you wear something…" Henry began.

"More practical?" Freyja interjected. "Don't worry, it won't be an issue." She then lunged forward with the staff, forcing Henry to leap backwards. "Not bad, you have decent reflexes. For a vanilla." She then swung out at his left, the staff grazing his shirt. As she returned to the defensive position, she left her left flank vulnerable. Henry saw it and attacked, swinging hard. Freyja pivoted, swinging on her right foot and blocking the blow. She then stepped forward, pushing her staff up and shoving Henry, who stumbled backwards.

She feinted to his right flank but lowered her attack, the staff hitting Henry's right leg instead. As he hobbled backwards, she attack his left flank, shoving aside his attempt to block her. Stepping forward, she shoved the flat end of the stave into his chest, forcing Henry to the ground.

"You see?" Freyja said as Henry lay on the ground. "Your technique is good-if you are fighting against human strength and speed. But you won't be. You need to fight smarter, you need to learn how to tell a feint from an attack as soon as it starts and how to deflect blows rather than block them. But," she said with a smile. "You have a good starting point. Now then," Freyja continued, turning towards Red. "Kyother has a special lesson for you today. Henry, get some rest and read the medieval European combat manuals. If you can't find them, ask Kyother to help you. I think you'll find them most enlightening."

"Wait," Red said as Freyja turned towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"Europe," Freyja replied with a smile. "I'll be back by 6:30. If all of you do well today I'll grab Salvadoran on my way back." The two students looked dumbfounded as the blonde goddess then walked out the door and, having made a slight motion of her hand, disappeared.


	11. Chapter 11

The routes in the Nevernever leading from Chicago are quite a mess. Still, it was the fastest way to travel, and Freyja was in a hurry. Killing Björn Höcke would be much more satisfying if she could be waiting in his office when he arrived from lunch. That gave her just around an hour to get to Erfrut. Freyja could do that, but the chances of someone interrupting her were fairly high. She hoped Mother Winter had gotten over her rejecting the then-Queen's son when he asked her out.

As the journey wound on, rather uneventfully, Freyja's thoughts turned to Höcke. She had learned of him thanks to some well-placed bribes. Although a relatively young vampire at only a century or so old, he had risen quickly through the Black Court's ranks thanks to his slimy style of charisma and divisively brilliant political mind. Over the last few years he had leapfrogged many in the Court as his status in the racist Alternative for Deutschland political party allowed him to advance many Black Court goals. He had used his speeches and political connections to distract the public while destroying White Court investments in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy. He had even managed to ruin a Raith development in Nice. France had long been Raith territory, just as Germany had always belonged to the Black Court. But Lara Raith did not respect the old traditions, and neither, it seemed, did Höcke.

Most importantly to Freyja, however, he was a dick. He was considered extreme by the party who called for banning muslim calls to prayer. He ridiculed the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin and had called loving same-sex couples "society experiments." Burning him would be fun.

Freyja only encountered one other group during her travels in the Nevernever. An older Gruff, accompanied by three younger ones, had been heading in the opposite direction, presumably back towards the land of Summer. She hoped. They had left her alone, but Freyja did not want to have to run through a war zone on her way back.

Freyja exited the Nevernever, appearing in Sudpark, just a couple blocks from the capitol and Höcke's office. Checking her watch, it was 12:40. "Leyna," she whispered, and disappeared behind a veil. Pulling out her dagger, Freyja moved quickly and quietly through the crowds of people, following one of them into Höcke's building on Arnstadter Street. From there she took the stairs, moving up to the fourth floor, where Höcke's office looked out across the street to the capitol building. Opening her Sight, Freyja saw that the door was only minimally warded. Still, any disabled wards would be glaring alert to Höcke that someone, someone magical, had entered his room. If he bothered to check, that is. Höcke was notoriously arrogant, even among the Black Court vampires. Freyja decided to risk it. Holding her hand with the dagger in it against the door she whispered "Fjarlægja." Slowly the curving rune that had been emblazoned on the door unfurled, its winding edges retreating into itself until there was nothing left. "Hinga," she whispered this time, and the lock undid itself. After looking to make sure no one was watching, Freyja opened the door and slipped through. Once there she sat down upon the desk and waited.

Freyja is not good at waiting. The behavior she showed at Mavra's, while more impudent than normal, was in keeping with her baseline decisions. Soon Freyja was playing with her knife and fiddling with the sharpened wand she had brought with her. Freyja was whittling at it, sharpening the end and carving runes into its base. After twenty minutes, she heard footsteps in the hallway and stopped moving. But soon the footsteps had moved on, and she went back to whittling. It was not until another ten minutes had gone by that more footsteps were heard. Freyja heard a hand reaching for the doorknob and readied her wand. The cylindrical wood felt good in her hand. She pulled forth energy and the runes began to glow the bright red of molten steel when the door opened. A heavyset man in a grey suit opened the door and look in.

"All seems to be clear sir," he said in a monotone. Freyja fought to refrain from a low hiss. She hated Renfields. More footsteps began, as Höcke said nothing to his brainless bodyguard. As he walked into the room he closed the door. Freyja tried not to laugh as he then walked to a bookshelf, totally oblivious to her presence. He was reading from Thilo Sarrazin when Freyja dropped her veil.

"Hello," she said, causing the vampiric racist to drop his book and stare. "Have a good lunch?" Before he could respond, a torrent of flames erupted from the end of Freyja's wand, incinerating the books and papers around Höcke. He screeched as the flames touched him, the magic of his suit giving him some protection, but apparently not enough. He leapt forward at Freyja, shifting to his true form, claws outstretched. "No," Freyja said forcefully. Höcke bounced off of seemingly nothing, landing on his back in the ashes that were once a German nationalist book collection. Freyja grabbed her wand tight. "Halda," she said as Höcke tried to get back up. Chains appeared around him, locking him into the floor. The vampire screeched loudly, summoning its obedient Renfields. The kicked open the door to see Freyja's wand stabbed through Höcke's shoulder, but no sign of the goddess. They rushed to help Höcke, which is when Freyja landed on top of one. She slit his throat with her knife, sending his body collapsing to the floor. The other shot at her with his pistol, but only managed to get two rounds off before he was disarmed. He tried to punch her, but missed. Freyja shoved him, stabbing him in the neck and throwing him onto the wooden wand sticking out of Höcke's shoulder.

That turned out to be a dumb move. Stabbed people bleed, and Höcke seized the opportunity, drinking his Renfield's blood. With a scream he broke the chains immobilizing his right arm, then yanked the wand out of his shoulder. Leaping up, the other chains snapped as Freyja stood amazed. No wonder he had climbed so high so fast. Höcke swung at her with his claws, but Freyja dodged, ducking under and moving past him, stabbing his kidneys as she went. Höcke then flailed with his arms, trying to distract her so his kick would land, but it didn't. Freyja side stepped and moved in to stab. She didn't get the chance. Höcke grabbed her arm, yanked her around and stabbing his claws into her abdomen. She swore in old norse as the claws went deeper. She could hear him growl and his fangs elongate. "Agni...hjarta," she said, putting all her energy into those two words.

For a second, nothing happened. Then Höcke screamed, louder than Freyja had thought possible. His claws retracted as he stumbled around before collapsing on his knees. Freyja walked over and stabbed the wand through his heart. Once the outer layer of skin was pierced, the flesh that had been turned into fire erupted in a flash, completely consuming Höcke and leaving only a pile of ash.

Freyja caught her breath for a second, then stood up and veiled herself. She needed to leave quickly, before the police arrived. She had no desire to be the subject of a search or kill more mortals. Closing her eyes, she could hear people rushing up the stairs. She looked to the window, but it was the kind that did not open. Freyja sucked in her breath, stretched out her hand and let out the air as she whispered, "vethr." The air flew towards the window, tearing the pane from the wall. There was a loud crash below as the glass shattered upon hitting the sidewalk. Freyja climbed out the window, still covered by her veil. She scaled down to the first story, then leapt out, landing neatly on the sidewalk. Looking up, she could see a cop looking out of the empty window frame, searching for her. She took off, running back to the Way she had found.


	12. Chapter 12

This time Freyja exited near Wrigley field and took a cab to her house. She had almost started a fight simply by appearing there. A small group of Svartalves had created a colony in the Nevernever near her neighborhood, and they took territoriality to new levels. She had managed to leave without a fight, but they hadn't been happy. She would need to fix that, a group of Svartalves near her could be of great use-if they got along well.

On her way back, Freyja had taken a detour to Pupuseria Abrego near San Salvador. The smell of meat, beans, and fried dough filled the cab to the point that even the driver was getting distracted by the time her dropped her off. Freyja paid in cash, giving the driver a generous tip.

Walking in the door, Freyja was greeted by the sound of swearing coming from one of the studies.

"God fucking damn it!"

"Samantha, you need to calm down," said Kyother. "Magic is easier when you're in control."

"That's easy for you to say," she shot back. "Do you even have emotions?" Freyja paused.

"Yes," said Kyother, with all the warmth of a winter night in Greenland. "Now do it, again." Samantha breathed in. "It helps if you give it a word, something you can focus on." She opened her eyes and breathed out.

"Like what?"

"Whatever comes to your mind." Samantha took in a deep breath again, then whispered something inaudibly. Freyja could hear a faint crackling coming from the room. Walking in, she saw a ball of lightning flickering in Samantha's palm.

"Very well done," the goddess said. "Now, run up and get your friends, I brought dinner."

"What is it?" Samantha asked.

"Pupusas," Freyja replied. "Now, get the others." As Samantha ran upstairs, Freyja turned towards Kyother.

"How did they do today?" she asked.

"Quite well," the spirit of intellect replied. "Minus the aggressive outbursts." Freyja laughed.

"That's to be expected when training new wizards."

"Which is precisely why I _didn't_ want to do it."

"I know," Freyja said with a smile. "But was the meeting with Mavra worth it?" Kyother sighed, loudly.

"Yes," they said, disgruntledly.

"Excellent. Now, what can you tell me of the Svartalves who live around here?"

"Ahhhh," said Kyother. "Ran into them on the way out, did we?"

"You knew they lived here? Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You didn't ask," Kyother replied, full of snark. Freyja growled, but playfully.

"Okay, so, tell me about them." Kyother said nothing. Freyja sighed. "Please?"

"If you insist," Kyother said. "They moved to Chicago only a year ago or so, after the fall of the Red Court. There are only a few dozen of them, but they are experienced craftsmen and have a lot of allies. They are led by Etri."

"Etri?" Freyja asked. "My gods, I haven't seen him in decades. How has he been doing?"

"I don't know!" replied Kyother. "I don't keep track of the emotional state of every faerie you've met!"

"Okay, okay. Calm down," Freyja said. "I'll just go meet him myself." With that, Freyja walked out of the room and towards the dinner table.

When she arrived her students were already sitting down, laughing and waiting for her. She smiled. It had been a long time since she had even one person who would've waited for her, now she had four. She hoped it wasn't just because she was giving them food and shelter.

"Here we go," she said, opening the styrofoam containers. "These are pork, those are beans and rice, and those and beans, cheese and rice. The ones on the end are fish, don't worry, it's very fresh."

"How the hell did you get fresh fish?" Ash asked.

"Or Salvadoran food this good?" asked Red, taking a break from the pork pupusa they had already eaten half of.

"Oh, I stopped by La Pupuseria Abrego," Freyja replied.

"Where is that?"

"Just outside of San Salvador."

"Wait," said Henry. "I thought you said you were going to Germany?"

"I did, I stopped by El Salvador on the way back."

"But…" said Henry.

"How?" asked Ash. Freyja smiled.

"I'll teach you when you're further along in your lessons. It's not a route one can travel lightly." The group seemed to accept that, albeit with some grumbling.

"So," Ash began as the meal was wrapping up. "What were you doing in Germany?"

"Mmph," said Freyja, holding up her hand. She had just taken a bite out of one of the cheese pupusas. After swallowing, she continued. "I was finishing up a job."

"What kind of job?"

"I guess you could say it was political in nature."

"Magic politics or politics politics?" Freyja was a bit taken aback.

"Both, I suppose. What do you know of magical politics?" Ash shrugged.

"Not much. I was looking around in the library and a book caught my eye."

"Which one?"

" _A History of the Courts_ ," he replied.

"Part one or part two?"

"Both, it's very well written." Freyja concealed a sigh. It was all well and good that Ash was interested in the politics that governed the magical realms, but she had been hoping to avoid explaining the vampire courts until later.

"Yes, it is quite well written. It is, however, a tad out of date."

"Oh, I know. I was talking to Kyother about it, and he said the Red Court doesn't exist anymore. Then he wouldn't say anything. Do you know why the Red Court disappeared?" Freyja was wide-eyed. She needed to talk to Kyother about mentioning those kind of things. Especially things about the White Council.

"Well, yes."

"Oo, please tell us," interjected Samantha. All four kids were looking at her intently. Freyja sighed, out loud this time.

"Very well. It's a very dark story, and involves magic you are _not_ allowed to use. Understand?" They all nodded. "Good. Until about a year ago there was a war between the Red Court-a type of vampire-and the White Council, which is a governing body of mortal wizards." Henry opened his mouth, clearly confused. "Wait until the end, I'll answer your questions then. Anyways, after a sneak attack on a senior Council member's house, where he and his apprentices were slaughtered, one wizard pulled a decommissioned Soviet Union satellite out of orbit and onto the house of a high-ranking Duke in the Red Court, who had ordered and participated in the attack. That Duke's wife set up a ritual, involving the wizard's young great-granddaughter, to destroy his entire bloodline, thus killing the wizard and his powerful grandson without having to actually fight them. Those two found out, and with some help attack the place where the ritual was being prepared. During the fight, the grandson placed the youngest member of the court on the altar where his daughter was supposed to be, and killed her, thereby triggering the spell and killing the entire court." The group was open-jawed at the story.

"How did he do that?" asked Red.

"I don't know," Freyja replied honestly. "But he has a knack for bumbling into situations and bumbling his way back out."

"Um," said Ash, raising his hand.

"I'm not a schoolteacher Ash, there's no need to raise hands," Freyja remarked with a chuckle.

"Oh, okay," said Ash, lowering his hand. "What exactly is the White Council?" Freyja worded her response very carefully. She didn't want her apprentices to join the Council, especially now that they had some power. She needed them, but more importantly, the Council was full of assholes, possibly a traitor, and the punishment for everything was death.

"The White Council is a group of wizards," she began. "They are the self-proclaimed governing body of human practitioners, and have been around since the fall of the Roman Empire. Their system of governing has not evolved much since then. They still try to enforce the same rules of magic and the punishment is always death."

"And they're the good guys?" Henry asked incredulously.

"They think so," Freyja replied. "They're certainly better than the Red Court, which used villages across South America as blood banks. They're not as kind as the Knights of the Cross, but the Knights are equally pretentious."

"The Knights of the Cross?"

"They wield swords bearing the nails that were used in Jesus' crucifixion and try to redeem evil, only killing when absolutely necessary."

"Huh," said Red. "Are dragons real too?"

"Yes, but there are only two currently alive."

"Oh." Freyja looked down at her watch.

"Unfortunately I have to run, but please feel free to ask Kyother anything, or read any of the books in the study." Walking to the door, she finished her thoughts over her shoulder "Don't forget to clean up!"


	13. Chapter 13

Heading out the door, Freyja got into her car. It was still going nice and the seats were comfortable as ever. If the car kept it up for a few more weeks she might just have to buy it. _And an old stick shift_ , she thought, vaguely disgruntled. She was lucky the heating hadn't already blown out in her house. Mortal magic never works well with new technology.

She parked at the Lincoln Park Conservatory, just a few blocks away. Walking in, she quickly headed towards the bathroom and into a stall. Locking the stall she takes off the necklace with the small black door, hanging it on the hook on the back of the stall door. Checking to make sure no one is around, she whispers, "Hniga dyrr," then opens the expanded door.

Walking into the room once more, she walks by the shelves of clothes, instead opening a side closet. Looking through her dresses she sees one of her old favorites, something from the time when Odin ruled the North. Smiling, she pulls it out, throwing it over her shoulder and walking a few feet further into her magical storage compartment. There she sifted through a stack of large wooden squares and rectangles covered by thick brown paper, shaking her head at the first few before smiling and pulling one out from near the bottom.

Walking out of the doorway, Freyja closed it, then whispered again, saying "nálægr dyrr." The black door shrank back into the necklace, allowing Freyja to hang the paper-covered rectangle on the hook as well. She then stripped out of her jeans and shirt, putting on the white dress. She then folded her previous clothes in her purse and put the black door necklace back on.

Exiting the stall she stopped by the mirror, looking herself over, smiling. She loved this dress, always had. It went down to her calves but had a low neckline, showing the tops of her breasts, almost no back, and a band cut around the back that showed the sides of her hips. Piling on to it, the seams were stitched with gilded thread. She put on her girdle, a golden weaved belt with a silver sheath attached, where she placed her dagger. Smiling, Freyja reached into her bag, re-applying her subtle red lipstick and black mascara before combing her hair. With a final smile to her reflection, Freyja waved her hand in the air, saying "Hniga," and opening a doorway into the Nevernever.

She entered the Nevernever, at the edge of a meadow outside a building under construction. Looking around, she could see the Svartalf village just a few football fields away to the right, while to her left the meadow expanded into Summer's domain. She turned right at a quick pace, gliding across the meadow and the cobblestones. When she arrived at the entrance to the village, there were two guards who stopped her.

"Who are you and what do you want?" one of them asked nastily, moving a spear towards her face. Freyja forced a smile and put a hand upon the haft of the spear.

"I am here to see Etri. I have a gift for him."

"And? You think we let just anyone promising gifts into our village?!" Freyja's expression changed, becoming far darker. She stepped closer towards the belligerent svartalf, towering over him while his companion shifted, wary of her intent.

"Do you want to be the one explaining why Etri didn't get his gift?" she hissed. "I doubt he would take kindly to that, OR," she said, interrupting the svartalf guard as he cleared his throat. "To you starting a fight with a goddess." At the end of her sentence she sent power into her hand, and snapped the magically enhanced spear haft. The svartalf recoiled in horror.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Did you make that?" She paused, hearing a deep chuckle from behind the gates.

"Of course he did," she heard a voice say as a heavy-set svartalf appeared. "But you already knew that."

"Etri!" Freyja shouted, pushing aside the guard to give his lord a hug. "It's been far too long."

"That it has my dear," Etri said. "Now then, what did you come here to talk about?"

"If possible," she said, pressing her side into his, "I'd prefer to talk in private." Etri paused for a bit, trying to get his brain back under control before he responded.

"Of course, follow me." Freyja smirked at the guard with the broken spear as the left, Etri's arm around her waist.


End file.
